Tuesday, April 8, 2014

The witches

I had a substitute teacher the other day, and I asked her to read a chapter "The Witches," as it's what I've been reading to my students.  Thought nothing of it.

About three days later, completely off topic (I'm pretty sure it was during math, because that's the way this little guy rolls), one of my kids says, "I didn't like it when the substitute read the witches.  She didn't do the voices."  Do you like it when I do the voices, I asked him.  Yes, he said, it's so much better that way.

I told him that the only reason why I did the voices was because I could still hear my mother's voice reading me that book.  And I always will.  I bet my sisters hear her voice that she did, too, especially when she would say "dogs drrrroppings!"

"Mrs. Fortenberry, are you crying?  Why are your eyes all watery?"

Ugh, yes, little one.  I'm the teacher who does the voices in the books and then cries at the end.  And when I have a sweet memory of when I was nine.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Mom blogger vs mommy blogger

I read an article recently about the lack of people blogging about parenting children that aren't toddlers or new babies.  The bloggers whose kids no longer call them "mommy."

I have lots of thoughts about why, possibly these people are too busy at baseball tournaments, camping with their Boy Scouts, or too busy being annoyed with their children for not washing their dishes.  They just aren't cute any more and their issues are bigger and messier.

It's been years since I've hung out with a crowd where it's socially acceptable to tell your birth story or talk about your child's bowels or even getting those picky eaters to eat.  I'm in a phase where we talk about how often we check our child's text messages, how to keep enough groceries in the house and "holy crap, that kid's voice in changing!"

Do we still need support and need to hear that our issues are completely normal?  YES.  Do we need friends, virtual and real, that help us with advice for SAT's and class rankings and how to get our kids in college and out of our houses?  YES.  

Eventually, we will be blogging about adult diapers and those darn kids that won't get off our lawns.  Eventually.  For now, I just wish my kid would wash her dish that's been sitting in the sink since yesterday.

Friday, September 28, 2012

I blame the feminists

I've had a lot of time to think recently.  Not because I've been in jail or anything, though some days it feels like it, but because I've spent a lot of time baking and cooking whole, real food for my family.

Real food?  Yes, bread from scratch, marinara sauce, cookies.  Calzones, taquitos, canneloni.  I even figured out how to make beans that didn't come from a can. 

What I discovered is that this food takes a long time.  Some days I spend all day creating food for my family.  It started as a budget thing, as a health thing and as a challenge to myself.  Look, Sara, if you don't have a job, you may as well be doing something to contribute.  Like cooking quality food and saving money on groceries.  You know what's cheaper than a veggie burger from a restaurant?  A veggie burger that you make from the beans that you cooked.  All those recipes on Pinterest?  They are actually more than just a pretty face, people, they're pretty amazing, if you actually make them.

Anyhow.  Real food takes a long time.  Sometimes the whole day my kids are at school is spent cooking and freezing and baking and making.  So I started thinking that if I were to get a job, this would totally be the last thing that I would do.  My days get crazy after school lets out, and I can only imagine what they would look like if I couldn't spend the school day cooking and cleaning and getting laundry done and catching up with the Real Housewives.

No, if I were to get a job and we were to become a dual income family, some of my salary would then go to eating out and buying bread and cookies and taquitos from Costco.  What would be sacrificied in order to make two jobs and three kids work?  Time.  Where am I going to get that time?  Sleep and cooking.  Probably cleaning, too, but let's be honest, I won't be sad about that at all.

Here's where I blame the feminists.  They demanded equal rights.  Women got jobs.  Great.  Women discovered that working and raising a family sucked and that they simply ran out of time every day, no matter how much their husband promised he would help. 

Families now have more money than time.  Corporations responded.  TV dinners!  Uncrustables!  Pre-sliced apples!  Fast food! Guess what?  These corporations are in it to make money.  They will make things as cheaply as they can, and as long as people are buying them, they will keep making them.  Seventeen flavors of Doritos?  Great.  Wouldn't be on the shelves if people wouldn't buy them.  This food is made with the cheapest of ingredients, most of which are created in a chemist's lab, not from the earth.

People are more concerned about convenience than they are about serving their families real food. 

People are getting sick.  People are getting fat.  People are continuing to eat garbage and wonder why they spend all the rest of their money on medication for blood pressure and cholesterol and God forbid, cancer treatments.  They are taking sick days to go the doctor's office to figure out why they have headaches and are tired all the time.  Diabetes.  It's all there, and it didn't used to be so bad.

Women, it used to be our job to feed our families.  We are getting generations into this now where the knowledge isn't passed on anymore and we don't know how to cook and we don't know how to do this eating thing without thinking that cool whip is a totally reasonable ingredient in homemade food.

Feminism gave us money, choices and opportunity.  But it has taken away from us something that we cannot measure.  We have stopped caring for our families by giving them food to nourish them so that we can all be the best we can be.  This is an unintended disasterous consequence.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Just the title, that's all I really needed.

I read this post about a week ago, and all I really need to do is read the title. Again. And then remember it. And again.

It really was one of those hand-smacking-forehead moments. I have a really lovely kitchen, honestly. I complain about counterspace though - it's not laid out in the most ideal, wanna cook for a big dinner party sorts of ways. BUT. I wasn't helping myself with three of the five chopped up counter spaces being covered in some sort of crap of some kind. Papers, food, dirty dishes, random toys that had been there for six months. And more papers.

So, now that counter space is being viewed as work space, not storage, I find myself disliking my kitchen less, enjoying cooking in it more. And suddenly, the kitchen table falls in the category of "not storage for the newspaper" and becomes clearer. You get the idea - mess begets mess, clean begets clean.

So, we'll see how long it lasts, but boy, I sure am enjoying four out of five counters being workspace. That last one will take me a little more training...

Saturday, January 28, 2012

How your ten year old sister says "I Love You"

Olivia: Charlie, do you still want to be in the Navy when you grow up?

Charlie: Yes.

Olivia: Couldn't you die when you do that job?

Charlie: Yes.

Olivia: I don't think you should do that job, it seems too dangerous.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Apples. Trees. Whatever.

I forgot to pick up my oldest child from school yesterday.

Shocking, you say? Nah, not really. Not the first time I'd forgotten him. I'm not terribly proud of that fact, but it's relevant to the story ahead.

It's about a mile to walk home - but when he walked in the back door, he says, "Mom?" And my immediate response was, "OH CRAP." And "Hey, was it raining on your way home?" "Glad you're here, sorry I forgot about you, but I did get that t-shirt quilt finished I'd been promising you for two years finished this afternoon!"

I went downstairs to give him a guilt-hug and he hugged me extra tight. "Mom, I was so worried about you, I was just sure that when I walked in the door there would be a note saying 'we had to take mom to the hospital'." He said he worried about 3/4 of the way home. I asked him if now that he knew the whole story was he mad at me for forgetting him - he said no, still just relieved.

We went about our normal afternoon routines - questions (from him) about snack food and questions (from me) about homework. About ten minutes later, I realized something.

"Why didn't you just call me, you do have your phone with you, right?"

"Yeah, but I thought if there were intruders then it wouldn't really...."

And then I realized. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Because I can imagine up some really crazy terrible stuff if I want to. But I always justify it by telling myself that if I imagine it, it won't happen, so it's really the most responsible thing to do, imagining the worst.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Deep Breathing.

Tonight is my first night as a cubmaster, officially, in front of wads and wads of kids. And I'm nervous. Not nervous, terrified. These parents are my friends, the kids think I'm a celebrity every time I walk by them in the school, yet, I'm all a-butterfly-ish.

I'll tell you it's mostly because the whole pack meeting is all ceremonies and patches and awards, and not really a whole lot of crazy eight-year-old fun, which I'd completely prefer. New scouts, a couple of advancements, adult recognition (Lord help me if I forgot someone!) and then a graduation ceremony. Too much to fit into one pack meeting, quite honestly, but what's a girl to do?

This girl is going to pretend like it's not all about to go down in thirty minutes, that there won't be new eager faces full of expectation and experienced faces full of hope and excitement. And parents, really hoping they can get these crazy kids in bed before it's too late.

terrified.